


uh oh titles.  um.  Neal's sick and I can't write a title lol

by orphan_account



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enjoy!, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this for an exposure, Neal is bad at self-care, Past Neal Caffrey/Kate Moreau, Sick Neal Caffrey, Sickfic, also he doesn't want to admit that he feels bad, but my friend convinced me to post it, mostly sickfic though, thanks alec!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Basically tag to s2 e01: "withdrawal"-Neal’s lack of concentration and sleep, shaking hands, and things stem from more than Peter thinks.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	uh oh titles.  um.  Neal's sick and I can't write a title lol

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the pun on “suit” is intended.  
> please enjoy! this is my first white collar fic so please be gentle.

Peter waited as the prison gaurd patted Neal down. As he finally sat down, Peter spoke.

“How are you holding up?”

“They don’t let me wear  _ ties _ . Food’s as bad as I remember.”

“Coffee?”

Neal winced.

“Instant.”

“Oof.” Peter sighed, sitting down.

“They’ve got a new anklet. Supposed to chafe less”

“..”

“I’ll let you wear ties”

“Coffee?”

“Negotiable”

After a long pause, Neal nodded.

\---

A couple weeks later, Neal stood in Peter’s office, staring out the glass to the rest of the White Collar division.

“You holding up?”

Neal spun around, staring at Peter with a sad imitation of his 100-watt smile.

“Yeah. I’m holding up” He said, unconvincingly and a little too quickly.

For a con artist, you’d think he could do better, but he was off his game for some reason today. Probably because he was starting to feel steadily worse, symptoms such as a sore throat and body and head aches had presented themselves, and he was freezing cold in a way that screamed “fever.”

Not to mention Kate. Oh god, he missed her so much. He had been close, so damn close-

No. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now, not in front of Peter.

“You sure?”

“I’m going to go” he managed, pointing to the door with his thumb. Peter nodded.

Sitting at his desk, absentmindedly sketching, the line meant to be straight turned out wavy.

Dropping his pencil, he held up his hand, watching it shake. From stress, grief, or illness, he didn’t know. Quickly squeezing his hands together to hide the shaking, he glanced over and met Peter’s gaze.

Damn it, he’d definitely seen that. Well, there was nothing to do now, so he picked up the pencil again and pretended to keep sketching even though he made no new lines on the paper.

\---

Walking into the park, Peter glanced around for Mozzie, finally sitting down on a bench.

Mozzie soon appeared, and followed suit. 

“How’s Neal doing? Is he still not sleeping great?”

“I don’t know, he got really quiet yesterday and I hightailed it out of there”

“Mozzie, we agreed to monitor Neal.”

“I didn’t agree to get-” he lowered his voice “ _ sick _ in the process”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’ve known him for years, Suit. I know when he’s sick, as good as he is at hiding it from the rest of the world.”

“Wait-he’s  _ sick _ ?

“Obviously. He always gets really quiet when he’s coming down with something”

“Huh.” Peter mused. “Well, thanks for the heads up. No wonder he’s been a little quiet today.”

Mozzie nodded. 

“Well, your lunch break is over and I’ve somewhere to be. Off with you, Suit”

Peter held up his hands as he walked away, sighing.

\---

As Peter walked in the door, he eyed Neal carefully, and noticed that indeed, he seemed a few shades paler, although his cheeks sported a bit of a red flush.

But they all pushed through colds, and Neal seemed to be doing fine. 

He shifted his gaze up to his office, and climbed up the stairs to continue working on their case.

\---

An hour later, Neal was starting to wonder whether this headache was really just a headache. He’d become nauseated, and the case files in front of him seemed to be covered in pink and green hazy splotches. He’d had migraines before, and luckily, this one seemed to be mild, but it still left him feeling even more awful.

All of a sudden, a new wave of nausea gripped him by the core, and he was forced to leave his desk at a clipped pace, just barely making it to the bathroom in time to throw up.

Luckily, he managed to be very neat about things, and no one else was in the bathroom at the time. It ws kind of a miracle, really. 

But at this point, if he was going to make it through the day, he needed some painkiller, and preferably something that also helped with fevers, as he could also tell that his had gotten worse over the past hour.

Managing to peel himself off the floor of the bathroom, brush off his suit and splash some water on his face, he walked back into the office area, and mentally gave himself a pep talk to tackle the suddenly daunting stairs up to Peter’s office.

Finally managing it, he knocked on the door, catching Peter’s eye through the glass.

“Hey Peter? Do you- do you have any Tylenol or something?”

Peter blinked, a look of mild concern crossing his face for a brief second. 

“I might, let me look..”

Neal watched Peter rummage around in his desk, but things seemed to be blurring together, and all of a sudden his vision tunneled, and he went tumbling to the ground.

A loud “thump” caused the whole floor to look up at the office, where Peter had spun around, eye’s wide.

Neal was sprawled out on the floor, and in his lack of consciousness, he’d dropped his attempted “I’m fine” facade, looking worse than Peter had ever seen him. 

Seconds later, Diana and Jones had rushed into the office, concerned.

“What happened? Is he okay?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
